Siren's Song (38 page)

She even loops her arm through Dad's as they walk down the hall. Carly and I follow. Dad talks in more detail about his work while Taylin interjects amazingly intelligent questions. He's totally forgotten about my ghost impersonation. Hopefully the bag of blood will stop me from becoming a real ghost in the near future.

* * *

“Bite on this,” Taylin instructs and shoves a rubber dog toy at me.

“I don't think so.” I drop it to the plush pink carpet in Taylin's bedroom. Pink carpet, black walls. I can guess who picked the carpet and who picked the wall color.

Carly fishes around in her purse. “How about this?” She hands me a pair of thick socks. “They're clean. Mom threw them in when I told her we were going bowling.”

“Hmmm…bowling instead of changing fake blood into my real blood.” I nod, my eyes wide, as if this is the most normal thing to be doing on a Sunday evening.

Luke stands in the corner, hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes glow softly as he stares out at me. God, he won't be able to go to school like that. I breathe deeply to calm my pulse. I know the sands are piling up on the down side of the cosmic hourglass. The curse is growing, making it harder for him to control himself. I catch him watching me constantly. I rub my arms to control a shiver. Normally his stare warms me, but what is watching me isn't completely Luke anymore. I don't even have to look in his eyes to see that. The outlines of dragons encircle the muscles of his biceps.

Carly points at the socks. “Bite into them when she pricks your finger.” Carly glances at Luke. “We can't run the risk of you yelling. Maybe you should leave, Luke.”

Taylin sits cross-legged on the carpet. Three ceramic bowls wait in front of her, one with dirt, one with water, and the third and largest one empty. Taylin holds a bag of artificial blood up and I look away. “Won't matter. If he wants to get back to her, he can be here in seconds now. He can hear her from miles away.” She looks at me. “Just don't make a noise. Got it?”

“Yeah.” I tuck my hair behind my ear.

I feel a whisper along my ear. “It will be okay. I love you.” Luke's words sound like the song of brisk wind on a clear fall morning as he whisks past me. I look and he's suddenly on the other side of the room.

I nod. “Okay, let's do this.” I bite into the socks and stick out my finger. The faint taste of Downy sits like dry cotton on my tongue.

Carly grabs my hand. “On three,” she says and I nod. “One, two,” she jabs and I bite hard into the sock. “It's better if you're not expecting it.” She squeezes the end of my finger until a large drop of blood sits on top. Carly looks at Taylin. “You're up.”

Taylin pours the fake blood into the third ceramic bowl. I have to breathe through my nose since the socks are stuffed in my mouth. The sharp smell, akin to slightly-old, raw hamburger, almost makes me gag. I try to concentrate on the Downy smell instead.

“Hold her finger over the bowl,” Taylin instructs. She flicks her black-painted fingernail, and the candle next to the bowl lights. I hear Carly choke a bit. Taylin closes her eyes, and Carly holds my finger over the bowl. The fake blood looks black in it.

Taylin hums, a monotone tune in a minor key. It starts small, like a seedling. She breathes deeply and lets the notes grow up from her throat. I wonder if she has a powerful singing voice or if it comes solely from her magic. The song resonates in the room, almost like the vibrations of a gong. I feel a tremor of heat and cold move around and through me. Carly's eyes are pool balls, wide and round. Luke stands near the window, staring with his cold, glowing eyes.

Taylin's eyes flash open. She dips one long nail into the fake blood, circling the perimeter. The liquid follows her nail. As she circles, a faster swirl forms in the dark medium. Concentric circles form layers as the liquid spins. Taylin's song stops. “Dip her blood into the center of the bowl.”

Carly pushes my finger toward the small whirlpool. Taylin sucks in a full breath and releases the song again. The fake blood is cool on my throbbing finger. I look away and imagine it as crystal-clear water.

I realize that the notes coming from Taylin are overlapped by words, as if they have become two different voices, one a solid stream, the other broken into individual words.

“I call upon the forces. The magic of the earth. Sky. Water. Fire.”

The candle flickers, the pink eyelet curtains fluttering as a breeze invades the room from the cracked window. Taylin, her eyes still closed, grabs dirt from the small pile near her. She lets it fall from her fist. The air filling the room scatters it around into fine dust. Blindly, she scoops water up and lets it drip from her fist. The water scatters in the strange wind, atomizing immediately into a humid cloud that hazes through the room like cool, refreshing smoke. I feel the ends of my hair tug up, and watch as the wind lifts it into a swirl above my head.

Taylin sings the words of her chant.

“Fire burns, water melts, air scatters, earth shifts. Elements change the world, transform the world, alter our world.
Abeo, novo, mutatio, vicissitude!
Blood to blood!”

A freezing prickle straddles up my spine as Taylin's song swirls with the elements in the room. The candle flickers so violently I can't imagine how it stays lit. My hair forms a funnel above my head. I drop the socks from my mouth and cough on the dust and humid air enveloping us. I look to Luke, who stands apart, legs braced, hands fisted at his sides. His hair doesn't move, and I realize that the swirling air is centered solely around me and the bowl. I suck in air and cough. Is there oxygen in this crazy magic tornado? The world swims, and I see the bowl down a long tunnel, like one in a fun house.

“Pull her finger out!” Taylin calls. “It's sucking too much from her!”

Before her words can penetrate my sagging mind, I'm lifted up in strong, warm arms, out of the humid dust storm. My hair drops onto my face, its weight sliding from my cheeks to hang toward the floor as Luke carries me to Taylin's bed. He settles me on the cloud-like mattress which is so soft it sucks me in. I grab hold of Luke's arm like it's a lifeline.

His voice penetrates the fog. “Jule, come back to me.”

I swim up through the cloud and blink. His dark blue eyes stare into mine. Luke releases a sigh and grins. “Tay, have any orange juice?”

“Probably fresh squeezed,” Taylin says with an eye roll and jumps up and out of her room.

Luke continues to stare. “You have a hard time staying conscious, don't you?”

His grin is infectious and I half-smile back at his gorgeous face. “Not before I met you.” His hair slides over his forehead in casual waves. He tries to run his fingers through my hair, but they snag. I wince. My hair seems to be a ball of dirt and frizz. I struggle to right myself in the bed. “Can this bed be any cushier?”

Luke chuckles and pulls me to the edge. “Taylin's got a thing for soft.”

“Huh,” Carly says. “Imagine that.” She grabs my wrist and stares at her watch, counting. “Your pulse is a little low.”

“I can help that,” Luke murmurs and leans in to slant a kiss across my lips. Cocky, yes, but totally right. As he gently holds my face, my pulse leaps into the race that's becoming wonderfully familiar.

Carly's giggle fades as I lose myself in Luke's strength. His lips move over mine. He leans against me, and I'm vaguely worried about what Carly thinks of this epic PDA. I feel Luke press me backwards into the pillow-top mattress. The kiss is amazing, delicious, almost primal. I surrender to the heat as I'm enveloped by the mattress and Luke's powerful passion.

A sharp pinch of panic starts in my stomach when I realize I can't breathe fully. I'm only allowed the air that Luke grants me. His kiss becomes a possessive capture, as if he's trying to entice my very soul out of me. I wedge my hands between his rock-hard chest and me, but I can't move him.

“God, get a room,” Taylin's voice breaks into my mounting alarm. I shove hard and he finally lifts up.

“I've got one already,” he growls. “It's just annoyingly full.” His eyes glow down at me and his smile takes on the qualities of a leer.

“Help,” I squeak and try to look beyond his huge body looming over me.

“Lucas,” Taylin's face moves over his shoulder. “Step back.” Luke just stares down at me. He rubs one knuckle against his wet lip as if he's still tasting me. “Fight it,” she whispers near his ear. “You're stronger than this.”

Luke shakes his head in one violent snap and pivots away on the heel of his boot. He looks right at Taylin while I push against the ridiculously soft mattress to sit up. “Help her.” His voice has lost its unnatural gravel, but it now burns with sadness, guilt, and anger. He strides out of the room without looking back.

Taylin puts her finger over her lips to warn me to stay silent. “Not a sound until he's had a chance to get out of here, put some distance between you two.” I nod, and Carly helps me out of the bed.

“It's getting bad,” Carly murmurs and brushes my hair back from my face. She hands me a tissue and gestures to her eyes. I wipe the tissue across mine and realize my mascara has been smeared by a lone tear.

Taylin shakes her head. Her eyebrows wrinkle together and her lips purse. “He loves you more each day. It doesn't help him to stay away. It still grows.” She looks at Carly. “We're running out of time.”

I point to the bowl of liquid that is now redder, lighter than the fake stuff. Taylin shakes her head. “Not today. We need Mathias to help contain Lucas if it doesn't work.”

“He'll be out of the hospital in a couple days,” Carly says.

“Knock, knock!” A cheerful voice comes from the outside of Taylin's half-closed door. She rolls her eyes.

“Yes, Mom?” Taylin steps in front of the bowl of blood.

Taylin's mom holds a tray with soda cans and a plate of pizza bagels. She pushes past the door and places it on Taylin's desk. “Thought you kids could use a snack.” She smiles brightly, but waits as if for approval. Taylin doesn't say anything.

I'm not allowed to talk, so I kick Carly. “Oh, uh…thanks Mrs. Banes. I love Bagel Bites.” I nod to add my silent acceptance of her gift.

“Wonderful.” She glances around. “Luke left?”

“Yep, thanks, Mom,” Taylin says curtly and turns back to us.

I watch pain pinch Mrs. Banes's face. She immediately looks ten years older as her gaze follows Taylin's stiff back. Nausea rolls through my stomach. Mrs. Banes squeezes her hands together so hard I can see her knuckles pale.

“Is there anything else I can get you kids? We love it when Taylin has friends over.”

“Mom, we're good,” Taylin cuts her off.

“O…kay,” Mrs. Banes walks to the door. Her shoulders slump over her slender frame. “Love you, honey.” She looks back, her fingers clenched around the edge of the door. She gives Carly and me a fake little sunshine smile.

Taylin doesn't say anything, and eventually her mom leaves.

“God, Taylin,” Carly voices my shock. “Can't you try to be nicer to your mom?”

Taylin shrugs. “I'm not mean.” She looks at us. “Like I said, the curse sucks. I doubt Maximillian thought about how many people he'd hurt.”

Guilt paralyzes me where I'm propped like a scarecrow against Taylin's black wall. I am the last fertile descendant of a madman. After studying the dates next to each name on the family tree, I realized that they refered to when each Siren hit menopause. A few awkward questions to Mom had confirmed that she'd had her last period last January.

So now that my mom is no longer able to have children, my death would break the curse for all of them. Taylin would be able to feel love for her parents. Mrs. Banes's tortured look would fade. Carolyn Whitmore would believe it when Luke told her he loved her. Matt could become anything he wanted to, instead of pretending to love his dad through football. It all hinges on me. Guilt gnaws inside, worming its way through my mind.

Taylin's black walls start to close in on me, and my middle feels weak and empty as if Luke took a chunk of me when he left. My breathing is stifled and I cough against the memory of the dust and humidity. Taylin and Carly are discussing the best way to store my blood. I can smell the tang of it, the iron and fresh proteins. Another wave of nausea starts and my finger throbs. With my last bit of control I grab my jacket and head to the door.

“Gotta go,” I mumble.

I round the side of the porch, deciding to walk home. Taylin's house is only a couple miles from mine. I could use a good long walk in the cool, open air. I suck in through my nose, shove my hands into the deep pockets of my chocolate-colored jacket and jog. I'm halfway down Taylin's street when the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I'm being watched. I scan the streets and stop.

Luke stops, too. He stands two houses away, staring at me. He makes no move to come closer and I'm afraid to talk. So I wave. He nods but doesn't move. Now what? After a long moment I start walking down the street again. Luke turns at the same time, walking at my pace along a parallel path two houses over. His long legs stretch, taking only one step to two of mine. He disappears behind a house but reappears on the other side, at my pace. I jog. Luke jogs.

He stares straight ahead, his eyes scanning the area. Cut, strong arms bend loosely at the elbow, a natural run, fast and predatory, like a sleek panther loping beside its dinner, waiting for it to tire. I shiver even as I appreciate the amazing way his muscles stretch and bunch in a symphony of absolute male strength. All the way home, he keeps me company. Watching. Continuing his distance. Mimicking my pace. I wave awkwardly as I run up onto my porch, my heart thudding so loud I know it must register through the dragonfly necklace. He waits until I shut the door before turning home. I watch him jog out of my driveway and across the street. His shoulders flex beneath his T-shirt as if he's stretching them, readying them.